


Morphine Or Cocaine

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Mrs. Hudson, Comfort, Drugs, Hurt, Hurt Sherlock, Hurt Sherlock Holmes, I'm so dead inside, John's Wedding, Lonely Sherlock Holmes, Moriarty is a little scary, Mrs. Hudson conforts, Mrs. Hudson is bad ass, Mrs. Hudson makes tea, Other, Sad, Sad Sherlock Holmes, Sherlock - Freeform, Sherlock has hallucinatons, Sherlocks high, fun spelling mistakes, god i love her, it isn't a fun time, morphine or cocaine, which will be it today, who could guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-05-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:13:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23401279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sherlock feels alone, now that John's married he'll be deserted again. He leaves the wedding early and does something that he thought would relieve the pain.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 23





	1. Hallucinations

The wedding was phenomenal, or at least as phenomenal a wedding can get to Sherlock. It was now almost over, about an hour left of everyone dancing and then it will be done, the bride and groom going home married, and for John and Mary’s case, expecting a baby as well. Everyone was dancing to some kind of pop song that Sherlock didn’t really know and wasn’t interested in wanting to know either. The detective watched from afar. 

Everyone was dancing and talking to each other, John and Mary looking at each other with content and happiness in their eyes as the slow danced although the music was fast paced. Molly was talking to some man that Sherlock didn’t know, and wasn’t bothered to deduce who he was either but by the looks of how Molly was acting, he could sense she liked him a lot. And Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade were talking and from the looks, getting along quite well.

Sherlock knew what was coming, and it hurt. Sherlock was used to abandonment. Anyone he ever got close to seemed to disappear from his life, almost like how sand slipped through his fingers, no matter how tight he tried to keep them together, the sand always fell through his hands until there was nothing left.

The detective thought maybe he could change the cycle, maybe John could stay. Leaving for two years damaged that hope, crushed it into a million tiny crystals as if it were glass. He hurt his best friend, and he tried to make up for it by helping with the wedding, but Sherlock was in a debt to John for ruining his life, a debt he doesn’t know how to pay.

“Alone is what I have, alone protects me” rang through the detective's mind.

He felt claustrophobic, too many people, too many happy people who go home to even happier people when he can’t even keep one! The lights were too much, spotlighting everything in pinks, blues, greens. It made his eyes hurt. And the music was loud.

He quickly put his violin music in an envelope for the new married couple to find later before putting on his coat and walking out the door. He waited for someone to ask where he was going, but nobody did, so he kept walking.

The best man didn’t hail a cab when he got on the main road. He just kept on walking down the dark London street. After a while into this journey, it began to rain hard. He merily put his coat collar up before continuing to walk to his flat. His feet hurt, and he has about twenty minutes of walking in downpour left, but he didn’t really care. The thing he needed was at home.

Sherlock eventually made it to 221B Bakerstreet. He took out his key and opened the door, the cold hair coming from inside mixing with the hot, dense night of the end of May. He walked into the cold room and up the seven-teen stairs to his flat, his only now. He was shivering in his soaked clothes, but he didn’t feel like changing clothes, there were other things that needed to be done. 

He strutted into the kitchen and began to rummage through the drawers until he eventually found a spoon. He then grabbed the first metal spoon he could find before going into his bedroom and looking through his bedside table until he found a lighter. He did the calculations in his head. The wedding ended in about twenty minutes, Mrs. Hudson will stay another extra twenty minutes to help clean up before being told they no longer need her help and that she should go home. 

To take a cab here will be roughly ten minutes, meaning he has about fifty minutes until his landlady gets here, that’s if no one finds out he left and she gets worried, and traffic. His high’s last about an hour, if he keeps quiet while his high fades she won’t know. He usually falls asleep for exhaustion afterwards anyways so it should be fine. He’ll have to hurry though.

He walked briskly to the bathroom and into the bathtub. He stood up and began to knock on the tiles on the wall until one sounded empty. He pulled it out with his hands before reaching into the square shaped hole in the wall before pulling out a bag of white powder and a syringe. 

The detective then sat down criss cross in the bathtub. He needed to be careful. Too much and he’ll overdose, no one would find him in time, and he’d die on his best friend's wedding night, too much could also make him go into cardiac arrest, once again, dying on your friend’s wedding night is a pretty shitty move. Not enough could make it not be as strong of a high, which could risk him coming back for more, which is just a messy sight, and also a high chance of an overdose. 

He carefully lighted the lighter until there was a small flame. He watched it for a while, he was always oddly intrigued by fire. He then put the spoon on top of the lighter. The flame licked the spoon as if it were starving. He then grabbed a scope of white powder, before it became a liquid. He then gently put it in the syringe then finding a good vein and sticking the needle in. Once it was done he slowly pulled it out of his arm, red swelling up from the puncture wound. He waited, it never took long when he injected it with a syringe, when he first started in his twenties he snorted it, but that always ended up messy and took a while to kick in.

While he waited he put the bag back in its place, promising himself he’ll never use it again, but knowing deep down he already knew that it isn’t a promise he can keep.

He began to feel the Cocaine doing its magic, he felt euphoric and excited, like he could run around London three times while talking about a new case to John.

John.

Sherlock shook his head, but decided that was a terrible mistake, as the world spinned around him. Once he steadied himself he decided being high standing in a bathtub wasn’t the best idea and he should probably get out before he falls and smashes his head open.  
“Don’t be scared, falling's just like flying, only there’s a more permanent destination.”

Sherlock looked around carefully as he stepped out of the bath, and beside the bathroom door stood a man that never seemed to leave, like when he had spilled vinegar everywhere while doing an experiment, the smell lasting for about a week.

“I don’t want to deal with you right now, Moriarty” Sherlock said, trying to scoot his way past the master mind until he found he could just walk through him. He walked into the living room before sitting in his char, wet clothes making the leather wet as well.

Moriart walked out of the bathroom and sat across from Sherlock.

“Alone again?” Moriarty said while looking wildly around the room, “I never thought we’d get a chance to talk again, with your pet following you around everywhere you go.” Moriarty smiled as he made himself comfortable in his seat. John’s seat.

“You’re dead.” The detective deadpanned while he squirmed in his seat, trying to keep his heart from exploding.

“That's quite rude Sherlock, I tried to at least presentable today.” The villain then jumped up from the chair and began to pace back in forth in front of Sherlock.

“You know, I’ve had a change of heart from our last tea meeting,” He began suddenly an apple appeared in his hand; he began to throw the apple and then catching it repeatedly, “I don’t want a crown, sherlock,” He said suddenly stalking over towards the detective, “No, I want a whole palace!” He screamed before throwing the apple onto the high man’s lap. SHerlock shook his head, tears beginning to well up in his eyes. “Stop”, he said pathetically, “You aren’t real.”

Moriarty moved towards the chair he was sitting in earlier, now lounging in it as if it were a throne. 

“It’s quite funny Sherlock, you try so hard to have a friend but it never works out, I’m beginning to wonder if it’s only ever going to be just you and me.” 

Sherlock whimpered softly, highs made him emotional, let all the bottles of emotions he’s stored come tumbling down, breaking when the finally hit the ground, emotions oozing out.

“Why do you need to be alone?”

He looked up quickly to see John now in the chair that once held Moriarty, he felt calm wash over him, as he jumped up in his chair, feet now where his bum used to be, in an almost squatting position.

“John!” He said excitingly, feeling all the excitement building up, waiting to be vomited out when he tells John everything and anything, maybe even go on a walk out around London!

“All you ever do is cause pain”

Sherlock knitted his eyebrows together, wait, this didn’t make sense.

“Wha-”

“I had to watch you die Sherlock, I had to watch your body hit the cement and mourn for two bloody years until one day you just show up! Not only do you show up without giving a warning, you show up on the day I’m supposed to propose!” John yelled, standing up and stomping towards Sherlock. 

“Well John you see, I had to go defeat Morairty’s whole web, the arse, and I couldn’t exactly tell you either because well, uh- that might blow the whole thing,” He said as he tried to move back farther in his chair from John as he moved closer, “Andthenwewouldallmostlielybeblownintobits” he finished quickly, getting no air between the sentence. 

John moved closer and closer, as Sherlock tried to crawl farther and farther away until the detectives chair couldn’t take the unbalance any longer and he and his chair fell to the ground with a sharp thud. He quickly turned onto his belly and began to crawl to the couch without looking back at John, trying to get away. He felt dizzy, and nauseous, and really just wanted a nap, his wet clothes sticking to him uncomfortably.

“Did you make a list?”

Sherlock quickly got to his feet and turned around, to see none other than his brother standing there.

“Look at you Sherlock, letting your mind control you. You’re afraid of things that aren’t even there.”

Sherlock stood up tall, “I am not afraid” he said loudly, though his voice sounded oddly like a childs”

“Are you sure brother mine, because you were just crawling away from Watson weren’t you? For no apparent reason at that, unless I’m messing something?”

“You miss nothing and you know it.” Sherlock said, taking some steps back and sits on the edge of the sofa.

“I miss even less because I’m in your mind.” Mycroft walked around and looked at the flat a bit, Sherlock said nothing.

“Where did that Watson go? He should be around here somewhere…”

“You know where he is.” 

Mycroft sighed and fixed his suit, “Mummy would always get mad at me when I would tell you how lonely you’ll be if you keep your ‘emotional act up’, but I see now that she shouldn't have got mad, I was only telling the truth.”

Mycroft gave his brother a huge grin, but his eyes conveyed no emotion. Sherlock felt sick, and cold, and to top it all off he felt a headache begin to form. The detective put his head in his hands and closed his eyes, there was silence.

But the silence didn’t last long. It started as whispers, barely able to hear the voices, but they soon mashed together, making SHerlock feel like his head was about to explode.

Everyone was screaming at him, he heard John’s voice through the ruckus, begging to know why he always needs to be alone. Mycroft was telling him he’s stupid, over and over andoverandoverandover. Molly was there and Mary and Moriarty, everyone was screaming and wailing and crying, and he couldn’t make them stop. Why won’t they stop! He stood up and tried the best he can to get somewhere, anywhere but here. He ran through a door and ended up falling into the bathtub, he heard Moriarty make a whistle noise as he fell, hitting his side on the porcelain. 

He closed his eyes, feeling hot water spill all over his face, and clamped hands over his ears. Whispering for them to stop over and over until the words didn’t make sense anymore. He heard a door open somewhere far away, and soon the voices turned into a static, and everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs.Hudson comes and saves the tea, bringing along her tea like always.

Mrs.Hudson stayed late at the wedding, helping clean up and put things away. The part ended around an hour ago, but she thought it wasn't fair for the groom and bride to have to clean up on their own. After a while though John told her that she should go home and rest, since they planned on staying to clean for a couple more hours. Mrs.Hudson said goodbye to everyone still around and headed out the door, before getting in her car and driving back to the 221B. 

On her way back her thoughts began to drift. They went from her own wedding to then mozzarella sticks before landing on Sherlock. She didn't remember seeing him leave but she must have guessed he did. That broke her heart, remembering her own friend who left her wedding early, she wonders if she's okay. She decided that once she gets home she'll check on the detective, maybe even make him some tea before going to bed herself.

She pulled into the parking space in front of her flat before getting out and unlocking the door. When she opened it it was quiet. She thought that was quite unusual, since the detective never sleeps, and always has to be making some kind of noise at all times. Mrs. Hudson predicted he probably fell asleep, he needs it, she doesn't remember the last time she found the man asleep.

She walked up the stairs as quietly as she could, as not to wake him. The stairs creaking in protest until she made it to the last stair. She walked towards the door and knocked, just in case he isn't awake. When she heard no reply after few minutes she opened the door and peaked in.

"Sherlock?" the landlady asked thin air, not getting any response. She walked quietly in the flat towards the kitchen, deciding to make the detective tea anyways, just in case he wakes soon when the tea's still hot.

Once she finished she grabbed the tea carefully before walking towards Sherlock's bedroom, only to fine the door wide open, and no detective inside. She began to worry before hearing a moan beside her. She turned around the best she could, trying to not spill the cup of tea still in her hand. The noise came from the bathroom, the door wide open and the light on. She carefully walked inside, trying to look for the source of the noise. 

She looked down and saw the detective in a fetal position in the tub. She sighed before sitting the tea on the counter and crouching down towards Sherlock. She shook his shoulders lightly, this not being the first time she found the man like this. Sherlock turn his head in her direction groggily. 

"Wha'" 

"Come on dear lets get you to bed" She replied calmly, resting her hand on his back, helping him stand. The landlady guiding the detective through the doors and helping him to his bed. Once he got comfortable, she pulled the sheets over him and went back to get the cup of tea for him, still warm, and setting it on his nightstand.

She then walked over and sat in the chair in Sherlock's room, glancing over at the sleeping man every few minutes making sure he's okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was terrible but it's fine. Sorry I'm so late to answering comment and things, I forogt I already posted the first chapter on here! I hoped you liked it!

**Author's Note:**

> There will be a second part to this, It'll be Ms. Hudson's point of view. Also my search history looks like I'm trying to learn how to do Cocaine.


End file.
